


the universe hates me, or something close to it

by wittywhisper



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Simon Snow, Post-Canon, flower shop, mild anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-15 00:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20609702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wittywhisper/pseuds/wittywhisper
Summary: The future is daunting, and Simon Snow is still not sure he’s ready for it.Or, that one where Simon Snow tries to keep a part-time job and overthinks (a lot).





	the universe hates me, or something close to it

**Author's Note:**

> alternative titles: “not a starbucks ad” and “i don’t know how coffee makers work and at this point i’m too afraid to ask”
> 
> recommended listening: Waves by Sleeper Agent
> 
> art by: @crowleyssluttywalk or @karou-draws on tumblr, find it at @carry-on-big-bang because i can’t insert it unfortunately
> 
> disclaimer: the Carry On universe belongs to Rainbow Rowell, check out Wayward Son coming out this month!
> 
> extra thanks to: the carry on big bang mods (love u Si) and Ray, the best beta who was willing to do it even tho i asked right on the posting day, much love.
> 
> enjoy!

“Baz… I think I might’ve just overflowed the café.”

Wait, wait, wait.

Let’s start from the top, shall we?

It all begins on the couch in my shared flat, when I get a Skype call from my magickal psychologist on my brand new laptop, a Christmas present from Penny. The notification pops up as I’m writing an essay and my eyebrows jump in surprise as I realize the time. Around me are papers from all my geology lectures from the past month, more of them than I can count. While Watford as a school prepared me well enough for normal non-magickal subjects, it did not prepare me for the course load such subjects would have when it came to university. Surely I’m going to reach the one hundred used pens milestone someday soon with all the writing I’ve done. I could type it all up with the laptop that I’m sitting with now, but I tend to forget things faster if I don't write them down. 

And so the paper-covered couch is where I find myself on a Saturday afternoon, alone because Baz, a frequent visitor of course, is out (though he did meet me at an eatery for lunch because, as I've come to learn over many months now, he’s a big sap behind the dark and brooding exterior he presents to everyone else). Penny is gone as well, probably with her study group. My legs are up on the antique coffee table, there’s a mint chocolate aero bar in my one hand. With the other I move my mouse over the accept call button and... click.

“Simon, it’s good to see you. You look a bit… frazzled.”

I put down the chocolate bar and rub my eyes, trying to seem a little more lively as I pull my hands away and crack a smile. “Just lost track of time is all. I didn't realize how difficult college would be. I thought it would get easier after the first year, so you know how I signed up for that extra course…”

“Tell me, Simon, have you decided on a path you want to take with your courses yet?”

“Uhhh, well…” My plan last summer, when I first started at school, had been to stick to the basics. After all, no one at Watford had ever posed me the question of what I wanted to be when I grew up, as if I were a Normal. But here I was, exactly that (except for the wings and tail, of course). “Penny’s dad brought up the ecological restoration thing again. And I am taking geology,” I say, motioning to the papers that I’m not even sure she can see.

“Yes, but you’re also taking history, a literature course, and a biology lab on… Wednesdays, was it? At this point, you need to start thinking ahead and taking what’s relevant to your career path.”

I can't help but sigh. She’s been bringing this up for awhile now during our sessions every month (they used to be more frequent, when my nightmares were just as common of an occurrence), and it’s clear what she’s getting at- I’m lacking direction. I guess that’s what happens when you’re, as she puts it, a trauma victim. I’m recovering, slowly, with her help. There’s stuff I’ve finally talked about- like what exactly the Mage did. I don’t hate him, but I’ve come to terms with what he did, including the fact that Baz told me the Mage let in the vampires who… never mind. That’s a story in itself.

It’s only been little more than a year, since that Christmas when I lost my magick. Baz and I went to Penny’s house for the occasion this year, and I tried to keep it out of my mind, but I couldn't ignore it then and two weeks later it’s still in the corners of my mind.

“I'm just saying, Simon,” she continues, sitting up straighter in her office chair, “soon you’ll have to decide on something. But I have a suggestion, related in a way, if you’re feeling up to hearing it.”

“What?”

“Perhaps you could apply for a job somewhere.”

“What?” I repeat, her words not properly registering.

“A job. part-time, of course. I know it can be daunting alongside your coursework, but as we’ve discussed, it has to do with some of your bigger problems.”

Right. Money. I tend to avoid the topic. I, ever the professional, of course respond with “I'd rather not, to be honest.”

“Simon. I'm telling you this as your therapist- apply for a job. You’ve said it yourself that keeping busy has been good for you.” 

Well, she’s not wrong. That’s the reason I started school as soon as possible after everything (like the inquiry into the Mage’s death) was over. I also spend a lot of time with Baz- well, for one because he’s my boyfriend and even though we occasionally fight we also enjoy each other’s company. But for another, because it’s a little less lonely. On top of that, I've made some friends at uni- we mostly talk about school, but we get along well enough. A job is something else though.

“I just don’t think I'll have time, with all my class work,” I lie.

“It’s four classes, Simon. For your own good, I think you could free up some time. I’m afraid I have to cut things short, but do consider.”

I close the laptop as soon as she disconnects, no longer motivated to work on that stupid essay. My day was going great, too, before that, but now I feel drained. No time to recover though- as soon as I sit up and slide my laptop onto the coffee table, my phone starts buzzing.

“What now… oh, hi Baz,” I perk up a little when I see the familiar caller ID.  


“Hey Simon, are you okay? I sent you a text asking if you wanted anything from Starbucks around ten minutes ago, but you didn’t reply, and I’m about to leave.”

“Bold of you to assume I'd reply that fast. I do have things to get done.”

“Sure you do,” he teases. “I'm only asking so you don’t steal from my drink, as you usually do.”

I can't help but smile- little has changed between us over the past few months- we’ve only gotten closer, if possible. The way he calls me Simon more often now is proof of this, and the way conversation flows easier between us. I've said as much to him, but I think it’s pretty obvious how in love I am, so much so that it can be overwhelming sometimes, especially when I grapple with being a Normal while he’s a mage.

Woah. Bit of a loaded thought to be having on a Saturday afternoon. “You know I only steal your drink to spite you. I wouldn't choose to have something that sugary.”  


“Oh, so spiting me isn’t even a choice now, is it? I see how it is.”

“Of course not. If you haven’t left yet, though, I'll get an iced capp and a raspberry scone.”

“Alright, I'll be there with it in fifteen. Love you.”

“You too,” I chirp back, my face lit up like a Christmas tree by a bright smile as I throw my phone onto the cushions that have fallen off the messy couch. The rest of the room is just as cluttered between my stuff and Penny’s- it’s a wonder I haven't lost anything, at least nothing of value.

Perhaps I should clean up, before Baz gets here. I do as much, organizing my school stuff and picking things up off the table trying to find loose papers, when a newspaper catches my eye as I move it. Of course, it’s open to a page of job openings, because the universe hates me, or something close to it. But against my first instinct I pause to actually read it, Dr. Hughes’ words still fresh in my mind. 

In the middle of the mostly colourless page is an eye catching ad with a colourful, patterned border for a local flower shop, one called _Smell the Roses._ Could I work at a flower shop? Probably. I mean, they give you some training, don’t they? Intrigued, I keep looking- there’s a few other ads, but not too many, considering most of this recruitment is done online now. But I rip the page out of the paper anyways, tucking it into my school bag so I can find it later, before I finish cleaning up. Even if I’m not sure how much time I'd have for a job despite Dr. Hughes’ insistence, at the very least I’d feel free of the pressure if I took a look at my options.

Hours later I sit on the same couch as before, this time with my feet curled up on it, newspaper ad long forgotten. However, the pressure to look for a part time job remains, so I scroll through a list of positions with one hand while a movie plays out on the telly. My other hand is entwined with Baz’s, whose skin is as cold as if it were still the middle of winter. His sweater clad shoulder, though, is a warm presence against mine as I lean into him, taking care to not bonk him in the head with my left wing.

“Half of these jobs aren’t even part time,” I mutter, frustrated with the seemingly endless list.  


“You know you can filter the list at the top, right?” Baz tells me, rather belatedly in my opinion. When I simply scroll back to the top instead of replying, he snorts.

“Shut up.”

“I didn't say a word. My lips are sealed. Oh, you can also filter by proximity.”

I only sigh this time, setting the filter to jobs within five kilometres. Baz hums as I shift away from him, swinging my legs off the couch to reach for the water bottle that sits on the coffee table. I yawn as I take a drink, trying to keep myself awake after a long day. Baz puts the hand I'd been holding on my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He might be making fun of me now, but I've already confessed to him that getting a job feels daunting, and in that moment he was all sappiness, talking about how he’ll help. A sweetheart, truly. If only he was as witty as he thinks he is, mocking my lack of attention to details, he’d check all the boxes.

“Actually, it almost slipped my mind, but I saw that the café across from Starbucks is hiring.”  


This shakes me out of my sleepy daze. “The one you also go to for scones and pastries?”  


Baz, in all his brilliance, always goes to Starbucks for a latte- and then walks to the end of the block, crosses at the lights, and heads back the same way to get a snack from across the street. It’s a waste of energy, in my opinion, since the café serves drinks too, but in the beverage department Baz seems to have a Starbucks addiction. I can't tell if it’s a vampire thing or not.

“The very same. It couldn’t hurt to drop off your resume there. Assuming you’ve made one.”  


“A resume… God, what would I even put on a resume? My assets: wings and a tail. My experience: I fought a chimera once.”

“A resume?” I look up to see that Penny has emerged from her room, arms above her head as she ties back her unruly hair. “You’re going to apply for a job, then?”

Penny already has one- she’s in a co-op program for teaching where she gets to help out in a grade school classroom for two or three days every week. The question still remains whether she’ll stick to Normal subjects or make her way back to Watford to teach despite not finishing her last year there same as me. Well, I say the question remains, but I have yet to ask it. She has time, since she’s already set on her path. As I reflect on my messy course schedule, it feels like my time to get my life in order is running out.

I'm starting to realize that Dr. Hughes was right; this would be a good first step. “Yeah, I'm going to apply for a job.”

“Good on you. Did Baz talk you into it?”

“No, but he’s helping out. Says they’re hiring at the Brook Street café.”

“I can help with the resumé writing,” Penny offers, pulling leftover thai takeout from the fridge.

“I'll see if I need it.” I smile. Perhaps getting a job won’t be so stressful a task after all.

————————————————————***————————————————————

I'm not sure I thought this through when I applied here, I’m really not. Maybe it’s just because I was convinced they wouldn’t hire me anyways- what, I thought they probably had dozens more qualified people applying. Not that I know what makes you qualified for a part-time job at a café, but I'd like to think you would have to be coordinated- if not as graceful as someone like my ex Agatha, then at least capable of carrying a tray full of dirty coffee cups with a steady hand.

I am not that person. At least the cups are empty, because I’m not trusted with anything beyond clean up yet. And at least only two of them actually crash to the floor and break, attracting the attention of everyone in the café.

At least.

“Dammit, not again, Snow. Grab the dustpan and clean that up fast, before the post work rush comes in,” my boss of five days, Caelan McCloud, orders. He’s about fifty, with a scruffy beard and an Irish accent, and he started this business with his wife years ago. She’s slightly less demanding than he is, and usually she would be in the kitchen baking, but she’s got a cold. I overhead my two coworkers for this shift saying that was what made him more stressed than usual today, but he was just as stressed when he interviewed me only days ago. Somehow, miraculously, I got the job despite my lack of experience. But I'm starting to think he regrets his decision to hire me by the way he glares as I hurry to clean up. His face only softens into a smile when a customer comes in and he takes their order.

I stop paying attention to him and bring my focus to the task at hand, taking care to sweep up every bit of broken ceramic. It takes a few minutes, peaceful ones. It’s only when I stand quickly, dust pan in hand, that things get worse. 

The customer who had just picked up her order yelps as she walks right into me- I assume she had been about to sidestep me while I was still crouched on the ground. Her plate of scones falls from her hands in what seems like slow motion, but in reality it’s not slow enough for me to catch before it hits the ground. It shatters and leaves more broken ceramic, now coupled with scones oozing raspberry filling, on the floor. My dustpan appears to have also tilted forward in the collision, adding the coffee cup fragments onto the pile.

My immediate reaction is to apologize, and then to look towards the counter, where McCloud’s face has gone red.

Uh oh.

Thankfully, once my mind starts working again, the situation isn’t as bad as it seems. McCloud is angry, of course, but he’s too busy apologizing to the customer and ordering the pair working behind the counter to get her more scones to say a word to me. Meanwhile, I clean up as fast as I can. By the time the post work rush rolls around (people coming in from nearby office buildings after their nine to fives) all that’s left is scones. 

And by the time the café has closed, the floor of the whole café almost spotless. You wouldn’t even be able to tell anything had happened in that one spot (that is, if you didn’t look too closely, because if you did you’d see where the plate chipped the floor). I'd be proud of my cleaning ability if I weren't the one who caused the mess.

McCloud approaches me as I finally finish wiping the tables, meaning my job here is done for the day. “Snow, this week has been… rough.”

This is it, then. I'm going to get fired from my first job after a week- not even that, only five days. And I didn’t even spend all five days working, so technically it’s four. I'm a disgrace, I'll never be able to face my boyfriend again, how am I going to even begin to tell him how horribly this has gone-

“But I’ve hope for you yet, and we’re understaffed regardless, the latter being wholly unrelated to the fact that you’ve still got a job here,” he tells me heartily. And even if I know he’s throwing shade at me with that last bit, I breathe a silent sigh of relief. 

“Of course, I don't think afternoon shifts are working out. What would you say to doing mornings instead, eh? Opening up shop?”

“Um, sure,” I reply, a little bit anxious, because cleaning tables sounds easier, but I can't bring myself to say no for fear that I'm only going to end up breaking more cups. “On Wednesday mornings I have a lab at uni, though.”

“Alright, that’s that then, if you can manage the rest of the days. Don’t worry, Marcus works mornings too, he’s a good kid. He’ll show you the ropes.” McCloud gives me a jarring clap on the back before he sends me off, and as soon as I’m out the door I'm able to breathe a little easier. Mornings it is.

————————————————————***————————————————————

As it turns out, one more week later, Marcus gets sick with whatever bug was ailing McCloud’s wife, leaving me to work the following Friday morning alone. I think I’ve got the hang of the morning routine, though. 

First step is greeting Mrs. McCloud- whereas Marcus is now sick, she’s already recovered. As soon as I’ve put down my school bag, I get to work setting down everything she’s already baked in its proper place on the display shelves. After that process, which takes a while since Mrs. McCloud is very meticulous, I check the tables and chairs, make sure everything is neat and tidy. Finally I get started on coffee for the first few customers as opening hour nears, seven o’clock on the dot.

That’s when things go downhill, which at this point I should be expecting.

It’s partly my fault as I start pouring water into the machine’s large reservoir without paying too much attention. The water is meant to get heated, and then forced through the contraption into a different compartment with the coffee grounds and… well, I’m still not an expert. I barely know how the half dozen dials on the front work. I keep pouring until my jug is empty, and notice how empty the reservoir is, so I do the obvious- I get more water to pour in.

And keep pouring until it’s clear that something is wrong- the reservoir is still empty, so I turn the dial that will start pouring coffee into a cup just to see if that part is working. Where else could the water be going, after all? 

Yet nothing comes out. “Huh,” I voice my confusion, then drop to my knees to look under the machine, to see if it might be leaking.

Which of course it is. “Uh, Mrs. McCloud? I think the coffee machine is broken,” I call out.  


”Just unplug it and plug it back in! I need to go toss the garbage out back!” She yells back, clearly busy. Which means I have to half crawl under the trolley that the machine sits on to reach the wall outlet and plug. Apparently the café room used to be some other shop, one where they had no need for outlets at shelf level, so they put them near the floor, thus the effort. 

I do as she told me, but as I do I feel something wet falling onto my shoes and pants, which stick out from under the trolley. It feels like someone is pouring a bucket of lukewarm water onto my shoes.

I move back out quickly, getting drenched in the process as I get to my feet and stumble backwards, cold and diluted coffee falling right onto my face. 

Well, looks like the machine is working again, but I might’ve put too much water.

I turn it off, but it doesn’t work, and my shoes only get more coffee on them when I step closer to try every other button in a panic. 

Finally the waterfall of coffee stops (it’s not even proper coffee- the water has gone past the coffee grounds so fast, maybe because of pressure, that it’s barely flavoured at all). The damage is done, though- my clothes, apron, and shoes are drenched. 

“I swear I didn’t put _that_ much water in,” I mutter faintly, sliding to the floor with my back against the front counter and wiping my face with my drier sleeve. I still feel panicked, the enclosed space of the counters trapping me in, my heart beating a little too fast at the unexpectedness of this. That’s right when Mr. McCloud walks in, because I’m pretty sure the universe still hates me. 

“What the- Snow! What the bloody hell is this!” He looks like he’s just come in, his hair windswept and his coat still on. I scramble to my feet, ready to apologize and explain myself, but he holds a hand up.

“Don’t even say it. You’re fired. Clean this up and get out of my shop. And I’ll have you know that your paycheck for this week will pay for the repairs, since you broke it.”

“It was broken when I turned it on!” I say, feeling that the last part is just a little bit unfair. It makes enough sense to be legal, but I didn’t touch anything besides the one dial and the plug.

“Oh, I know, Jaspreet told me it wasn’t working properly when we closed shop yesterday. But unless you can prove it had that much damage, I’d get to cleaning,” he snaps.  


Maybe that’s fair enough. It’s the best I’m going to get, anyways. I clean up the floor, the machine, and the trolley- it takes about forty-five painful minutes with McCloud glaring at me anytime he’s not with a customer. I leave when I finally can with one last glance back- he’s still glaring. No mercy from him, which makes me hate him just a little. Sure I put too much water, but he admitted he knew it was broken. 

Whatever. I suddenly feel too exhausted to be angry. As soon as I’m outside with my bag, I spot the nearest bench and collapse into it, pulling out my phone and pressing the top starred contact. 

I don’t feel so great, obviously. I’m no Chosen One, I’m not a great student, I can’t keep a job for more than two weeks, and now my boyfriend doesn’t even want to talk to me because that’s how much I suck-

Baz picks up on the fourth ring. “Simon? You know I’m in a lecture right now, can it wait?”

“Baz… I think I might’ve just overflowed the café. And then I had to clean it up and my clothes are still gross. And I’ve gotten fired, and McCloud hates me and he knows who you are, so you can never buy scones from him again because of me, actually it wasn’t the whole café just the coffee machine that overflowed, and-“

“Simon.”

“Yeah?” I think I might cry. The way things have gone so wrong with this whole job idea after all the thinking I did about it makes me feel small, and not in control, in a way that I hate. 

“It’s okay. I don’t care what happened. You’ll be okay.” I know he’s heard in my voice how terrible I feel. “This will pass, I’ll call Penny, she’ll pick you up faster in her car. It’s just a coffee maker, just a part-time job. Besides… I never really liked his scones anyways.”

I let out a little snort. “That’s a lie. You would do all that walking from the Starbucks to get them.”

“That’s just because you liked to take them, especially the raspberry ones.”

“Oh. You could’ve told me you didn’t like the scones, so you didn’t have to walk for them.”

“But they made you happy. Don’t worry, now we both know they’re sold by a jerk. Besides, there’s going to be a new café opening on my campus soon. I bet their scones will be much better.”

I manage a smile. “Thanks, Baz.”

“No problem, Simon. Hang it tight, I’m sure Penny’s not far, I think she was just running errands. I’ll call her now.”

Since Baz has his lecture, it’s indeed Penny who picks me up in her cramped Honda Civic no more than ten minutes after he ends the call. I give her a brief recap of what happened, which she’s very sympathetic about. After, we sit in silence, aside from the faint music from the radio. I have my eyes closed as I try to push away a headache and to ignore how disgusting my clothes are. 

“This probably isn’t the best time to tell you this- actually, it might be the absolute worst, but I promised myself I'd tell you today,” Penny says suddenly. “I'm leaving for the United States this summer.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Already?”

“It’s been almost a year here now. I’m not sure where I’m going to go, but I’ve got a few months yet. I just… I’ve already applied to some schools so I didn’t want you to, y’know, find it in the mail or something silly like that.”

“Yeah, no, I get it.” My mind feels crowded enough already, and I take a deep breath. “Do you think I could come with you?”

Now it’s her turn to do a double take. “Pardon?”

“I mean, between semesters, could I come with you? Help you get settled, see the sights?”  


“Of course! Oh, that would be awesome! Wait, does that mean you’re going to try and get another job?” She’s giddy with excitement.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ll have to start saving up.”

“Huh, I guess so. Don’t know where yet. I think I’ll pass on cafés.”

“What, you don’t want to smell like coffee? It’s like free perfume,” she says teasingly, getting a laugh out of me.

“Yeah, it’s a new speciality scent. You’re welcome to try it,” I add.

“Maybe, but it sounds expensive. I heard that to get the most out of the smell, you’ve got to get the broken coffee maker package.” Penny says this as she parks the car and unfastens her seatbelt.

“Seriously though, I need a shower,” I reply, feeling especially gross when I get out of the car and my coffee covered sneakers hit the pavement with a squelch.

“Of course. Wait, Simon, I think you dropped something,” she gestures to a paper on the ground as she comes around to my side of the car, headed towards the apartment building’s entrance.

I reach down to grab it and follow her, unfolding it as I go. It’s a newspaper clipping- the border is coloured, the title in bold font- _Smell the Roses Flower Shop - Hiring Now!_

Now there’s an idea.

————————————————————***————————————————————

It’s a lot different from the café already, and I've only just arrived here for the interview. I haven't even gotten hired yet. But it smells nice- sweet, but earthy, and in a funny way it makes me think of arriving at Watford and crossing the Great Lawn.

I'm so busy taking in the bright colours of all kinds of flowers, from lilies to peonies to pansies to tulips (and those are just the ones I can name), that I almost forget what I'm doing here. I only clue in when a blonde haired woman bustles in from the back door, and I almost fall over, not only because I wasn't expecting anyone to come in, but… she looks like Ebb.

Quickly, memories flood back, of visiting Ebb and her goats on quiet evenings, of sitting with her and drinking tea, to the more painful visual of her body on the cold stone floor of the mage’s tower. I push that aside as quickly as possible, and cough to hide what’s surely a weird reaction in her eyes. 

She doesn’t comment- instead, she smiles wide and extends a hand towards me which I shake. I have to subtly brush the dirt off my palm moments later, but it’s a flower shop, so I guess I should get used to it. If I get hired, that is.

“Hello there, how can I help you?” The woman asks politely. she even sounds like Ebb with her gentle tone.

“I, uh, I saw your ad in the newspaper that said you’re hiring, and I wanted to drop off my resumé, that is, if you’re still-“

“You’re hired.”

“Sorry?” I don’t think I heard her right.

“I said you’re hired!” Her smile is beaming. “I’ve been looking for help for ages, and I just landed a gig setting up flower arrangements for a rather large wedding, so you’ve come at the perfect time. When can you start?”

Overwhelmed, my grip on the resumé loosens, and the paper flutters to the floor. “This is… not what I expected to hear.”

“Have some faith in yourself, dear! I'm sure you’ll be fantastic with flowers- anyone can be, as long as they have a passion for it. And surely only someone with a passion for flowers would apply at a flower shop, so I'm honoured to have you join the team.”

“The team?” I ask, trying to steer away from the topic of why I applied here, which has less to do with a passion for flowers and more to do with cracked cups, dropped scones, and a broken coffee maker. 

“Of course,” she says, turning to yell through the door into what I assume is the back room. “Linora! Could you come here for just a second?”

“I’m Simon, by the way,” I remember to say as I hear something metallic clatter to the ground back there- must be gardening tools. 

“Oh! Pardon me, where are my manners… my name’s Briony.” If she had said her name was Ebb just now, I would’ve officially freaked. Seriously, the resemblance is uncanny. My eyes drift from her face to the door, where a girl with a head of golden-brown curls enters the room. Her skin is dark and her smile is much more placid than that of her boss.

“Oh, hello. I'm Linora, and you are… a customer?”

“Simon, Simon Snow. I guess that you could think of me as the new hire already.”  


“That quick? Briony, I’m not one to doubt you, but didn’t the bell only chime a few minutes ago? Meaning he just walked in?”

“Linora, don’t be rude,” Briony admonishes. “He’s just the person we need, I know it.”  


Neither of us question how exactly she knows it. As long as I’m hired, I guess I have no reason to, which is of course a good thing. “So when do I start?”

“Right now! I mean, if you can. I need to go out and get some potting soil quickly from the supermarket, so Linora can start showing you the ropes.”

It’s a rushed affair. Briony leaves hastily, and I follow Linora into the back, where I’m bombarded with information as I take in the large windows, the big worktable, the plants occupying every open space from the floor to the shelves to the ones hanging from the ceiling. There’s even a large birdcage with budgies whose names Linora rattles off. Finally, she realizes how little I’m absorbing, and leaves me by the birds to go work.

I do a full circle to take it all in, and when I turn back to her, things get even more interesting as her mouth hardly moves and a trowel flies into her hand from across the worktable.  


“You’re a mage?” I ask, my surprise evident in my voice.

“Yes, I'm a mage, though I dropped out of Watford” she replies, sounding bored. Then, something changes. “But so are you, no?”

“Pardon me?”

“Well I heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend who heard it from a donkey- just kidding. But I know that you,” here, she points her index finger at me, the one clad in a chunky black ring that must channel her magic, “you’re special. I don’t know what happened, but you saved us, and you went from having some magick to having none.”

I want to sink into the ground under the weight of her stare. “So?”

“So, that means I’m better at magick than the Chosen One!” She claps her hands together in glee, her whole face relaxing as she makes the revelation that makes me want to sink even further. 

“Who told you I’m the Chosen One? You said you dropped out of Watford.”

“Like I said, a friend of a friend,” Linora says dismissively. 

“Well, what does it matter? So what if I’m the Chosen One? I’m more than that! I’ve got friends, a boyfriend, and now I’ve got a job, so what does it matter?” My tone is harsh. I don’t mention the one thing I’m lacking- a sense of direction, in the figurative sense of course. I’m decent at using a map, but what I need is a place to go.

Great. Another incredibly heavy realization at the most inopportune time. That’s the second one this weekend.

“Sorry.” I start, having forgotten about Linora entirely. She sounds almost sheepish now, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I’m not usually better than anybody when it comes to magic. It’s why I dropped out.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a Normal now.” My anger fades as quickly as it came. I feel bad for raising my voice, especially here, where it’s clearly meant to be peaceful. Now that I’m quiet, the chittering of birds from their cage and the breeze through the windows creates a much nicer atmosphere as Linora figures out what to say.

“You still have wings, and a tail.”

“How do you know?”

“The, uh, the spell’s worn off. Look, I really am sorry, but it sounds like you’ve got a lot on your mind. If it makes you feel any better, being a Normal isn’t all that bad. There’s tons of things to do and see, even if magick makes some things easier.”

“Yeah, turns out I might be going to America soon. Anyways, looks like I need to hide all…” I gesture vaguely over my shoulder at my demon-y parts, “all this. Do you think we could-“

“Start over? Yeah, I was hoping so. I overstepped, sorry. Another reason i dropped out- I have a habit of it.”

“Well I was going to say, do you think you could help me out since I don’t have magick of my own,” I smile, “but yeah, that too.”

Before she can respond, someone else beats her to it. “Oh, and you’re a mage too? How wonderful!”

I spin so fast that I almost knock over the plant Linora was tending to. “Briony! You know?”

“About magic? Of course I know! I can do it quite well myself.” She really is a lot like Ebb.

“Well, I’m not a mage, really. I’m a Normal. The wings, the tail, they’re just an… accident.”

“A happy accident! They look great. Though I suppose it’s best to keep them concealed at work.” She casts **Now you see me, now you don’t** in quick order, then sports a smile even brighter than when she first saw me, if that’s possible. “Now, I suppose we should get back to work, unless you have any more surprises.”

“Actually, I've never worked with plants before,” I blurt out.

Briony doesn’t skip a beat. “Minor setback. But no worries, dear, anyone can learn. So, like I said earlier, when can you start?”

————————————————————***————————————————————

“This is probably a weird thing to ask but am I okay at this job? Now that you know I’ve never done anything like it before?” Despite me proving her assumption that I’d applied here out of a love for plants wrong, Briony has been nothing but kind. Yet after the mess that was my two weeks at the café, I’m still doubtful she’s not planning to fire me. Yet I’ve made it a few days now, so I think it’s safe to ask.

“You’re a natural, dear. You have a green thumb. Did one of your parents perhaps have a love for plants?”

“Maybe my mother? I never knew either of them.”

“I'm sure they were wonderful people, your mother especially.” Briony doesn’t say sorry, which I appreciate. What are people apologizing for anyways, when that’s their response? “And they have a wonderful son.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Tell me,” she says as we continue to assemble the flower arrangements for the wedding. “do you plan to do anything in the field of ecology for your career?”

“I'm taking a geology course right now. My friend’s dad, he suggested that I go into ecological restoration.” He’s suggested it more than once, which I assume is the reason it’s stuck in the back of my mind. No one else has really offered me a direction like he has. Baz has tried to help, but he can’t read my mind, and his interests for a career are quite different, in the realm of business and finance. I've tried a bit of everything except for those two subjects, which are too math based for my taste. So far, I think the science courses are what have stuck, along with history, with English literature being pretty uninteresting. I voice as much to her. 

“That’s perfect, then. You could take an ecology course next semester, and work your way into the specifics. And you would of course be working with plants- though probably not this close.” 

“Do you think I'd like it?” I still haven’t known her for long, so my stomach rolls as I realize how it might be a weird question.

“Well that’s up to you, isn’t it? Don’t feel pressured, of course. You’re free to do what you would like.”

“Maybe I'd just like to run off somewhere and buy a goat farm. Become a shepard. Forget about the city, forget about everything.”

“Listen dear, if that’s what you want to do, then do it. Nothing’s stopping you but your own worries. However, I do think there’s some things worth staying for, things worth remembering.” My hands have paused in their work as we’ve talked, and she takes the flowers out of them to finish the knot. I realize that was the final bundle- we’re done for the day. Baz will be waiting for me outside, but I grab my backpack slowly, still thinking about Briony’s words through our conversation. As she picks the bundles of flowers off the counter to put them in the back, I clear my throat. 

“Briony, thank you for talking to me. And for hiring me. It means a lot.”

“Anytime dear. I'm just one of many people who wishes the best for you.” She smiles in a way that suggests she knows more than she’s letting on, but I don’t question it. Then she waves and nods towards the entrance, where Baz stands, the chime of the door having gone unnoticed by me. I grin as she leaves us in the shop.

“Ready to go?” He asks, and I grab his hand as we step out. 

I think about spending the rest of our evening watching another crappy movie while we get our schoolwork done and eat takeout. I think about going with Penny to America, about finishing school with Baz at my side, about getting to know Linora and helping out Briony. I think about going on to do something it’s clear I could easily love doing without worrying too much about all the other options, because I'll be able to change my mind at any time- I'm not ‘chosen’ for anything I don't want anymore. I’ll have plenty of help, but I’m still my own person, and it’ll be my decision. I don't just think about all of it, I overthink it, but hey, at least the thought makes me smile. 

I can’t stand here and think forever, though. “Yeah, I'm ready to go.”


End file.
